


Alienation of Affection

by Gadhar



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone stole his goddamn belt. They stole the other stuff too, everything but the clothes he has on minus the belt. But they stole the damn belt and now he’s got pants that are three sizes too big and threatening to end up around his ass and only twenty dollars left. That’s the last time he makes the mistake of sleeping in this fucking neighborhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Insert usual disclaimer here. I own nothing yada, yada, yada.'
> 
> I don't (generally) write AUs, especially not for Expendables (ignoring It's Not Charity and the ST!Exp with the very long title), but for some reason, some time around when the idea for INC hit, I thought of this one so I thought I'd post a little bit of what I have since it is a muse I have at the moment. I still haven't given up on other WIPs though, I'm just...increasingly disorganized and uninspired, apparently. 
> 
> Anyway, so yeah, I'm gonna blame a certain movie for the little vague idea this manifested from.

The leather is smooth and shiny, stiff enough that Lee would guess it’s new, but loose enough to tell him it was probably only worn a few times. 

He lays that on the bed and goes back to the closet. Most of this stuff is too upscale for him. With the places he frequents it’d probably come across as strange to walk in in a 1,500 dollar suit. Doesn’t mean he can’t snatch a few decent shirts though. 

Lee quirks his lips and files through the hangars again, settling on a few shirts that might get him a decent job for awhile, and brings those to the bed. He then goes through the drawers and finds a couple Henleys that are closer to something he can be seen wearing. Some of them are far too big and others are far too tight. So ill fitting all around but he takes them anyway, coming to the decision that whoever lives here either has no idea how to buy clothes, or is sharing the drawer with someone who’s a hell of a lot bigger than them. 

It’s a good thing the leather jacket fits pretty well.

He looks for pants next and there’s a few slacks that fit alright but all the jeans are about three sizes too big but fuck, if he finds a belt he can make it work. 

Once he finds a decent belt he shoves all his acquisitions in a borrowed bag and starts searching for cash. 

For some reason it seems upscale places like this have a habit of hoarding cash in vases or in books or whatever. If he had cash like this he’d bury it under a tree or something. Lee doesn’t really know what else someone would do with this much money but he’s pretty sure they could put it in a bank.

Not that he wants places to be devoid of the cash that keep friendly neighborhood burglars like him alive. 

He turns up a good three hundred between the various twenties in different places and the solid two hundred that was in the lockbox under the bed. If he rations that out right he should be good for a week or two, maybe even a month. 

He shoves it all in the bag along with the stuff he raided from the kitchen. 

He slings the bag over his head and is halfway to the door when the bathroom catches his eye again. He avoided the bathroom for multiple reasons, though now that he was done raiding....

Maybe he could snatch a shower. It’s been at least month since his last real shower and with the new clothes it might be worth it to actually slip into them clean. How much time does he have though? After last time he really doesn’t want to find out if these homeowners have a gun or not. 

Still, it’d be nice to get all the dirt and grime and—

Lee freezes, the sound of voices and footsteps in the hall, near the door, on the doorknob—

He bolts. Turns on his heel and heads right for the balcony window that let him in. He doesn’t bother to close it, not with a line of sight straight from the door to the balcony. Lee goes to the edge and looks down. The alley’s clear so he drops the bag into the dumpster below. Then he takes the next three seconds to climb down far enough that he won’t break his neck when he then drops into the dumpster.

Lee grunts at the impact, feels the blinding pain twist up from his side and he stays there holding his breath against the stench until it passes. 

When it does he grabs the bag, slings it over his shoulder and makes the very clumsy climb out of the dumpster, dropping out onto unsteady feet on the concrete. Then it’s a calm but fast walk out and as far from this building as he can fucking get.


	2. Chapter 2

Someone stole his goddamn belt. They stole the other stuff too, everything but the clothes he has on minus the belt. But they stole the damn belt and now he’s got pants that are three sizes too big and threatening to end up around his ass and only twenty dollars left. That’s the last time he makes the mistake of sleeping in this fucking neighborhood. 

Lee wraps his arms around himself and stares at the bar that’s across the street. There’s no blinking lights or thumping music and everyone who’s entered the place has been fully clothed. It seems lowkey enough, and more importantly _warm,_ that he’s pretty sure he can hang around in the place for a few hours and not get kicked out. Hell, if he buys something with his last twenty dollars, maybe he can stay until closing time and then sack out in the back. Places like this usually had huge heaters behind them.. 

But then it’s also a _bar._ And he doesn’t particularly like bars. Or rather what’s in them. 

But still, it’s indoors and it’s warm and—fuck it, he doesn’t have the patience to go anywhere else. 

Lee hurries across the street and uses the last few steps to straighten out his clothes and make it look like he hadn’t spent the last year sleeping on the streets. 

Once inside he pulls his beanie low over his eyes and gets to work. 

On the way to the bar he counts three purses he can slip money out of easily and two wallets that are close enough to abandoned that he could probably get away with taking the entire thing rather than just the cash. But wallets are bulky and cash is easier to hide in his clothes. 

Lee slides up to the bar and fishes out his own twenty, waves it in the face of the bar tender.

There’s a moments hesitation, where he can feel the bartender’s eyes—heavy and soft with edges of hard kindness—and he swallows hard, nearly admitting that he picked the wrong fucking place to rob and he should back the fuck out now. 

Those eyes watch him for what feels like an hour before the head they belong to nods and the bartender is sauntering over to him; all thick muscle, tattoos across his forearms, and a pipe that moves with his lips as he talks. “What can I get you brother?”

Lee ducks his head at a voice that’s too damn fucking soft and Lee just _knows_ he won’t be able to rob this place. He might get lucky with customers but the main target’s off. He’ll have to hope that the bartender is not as observant as he seems to be. “Just water.”

“You sure about that, son?”

There’s surprise in the voice and Lee shifts uncomfortably, staring at the table. _Bad fucking choice, Lee. This guy will probably kick you out in two seconds flat._ “Yeah. Just water.”

The twenty never moves from his hand but a glass of water taps against the bartop and he stares it dumbly. “On the house, kid.”

Lee shoves the twenty back in his pocket and waits until the bartender is way on the other side of the bar before getting up with glass and moving about the place. 

He snatches the two wallets, takes the cash, and dumps the leather about two feet from where he got ‘em. One of the purses has moved but the other two are easy pickings and he walks by without disturbing either girl. Then Lee makes his way to the very back of the place and slides into as a booth that has as many tears as Lee does bullet scars and that is really impressive. 

His side twinges as he shifts around but it’s nothing serious. He’s surprised really, he thought the cold would make the pain worse but so far it’s just made him numb to just about everything. 

Lee sits in the corner and sips water and tries not to fall asleep. He’s hungry and tired and this place has the comforting smell of bacon, smoke and leather. Maybe it’d be worth it to buy some food. It’d cut his twenty down quite a bit but with the extra cash that feels like a solid amount, maybe he can afford to. 

And he’s just about to have the waitress pick something out for him when the bartender sidles up to his booth with a steaming tray. 

“You are _very_ popular, my brother,” he says and then drops in front of Lee a basket full of fries covered in cheese and bacon and then another basket with a burger and then a glass of rootbeer. Then the bartender grabs at his pipe and hums, gesturing. “The burger is from that sweet thing over there,” He points out a young blonde that gives Lee a quick wave before going back to her friends. “I’m not so sure she’s hitting on you though, I’ve known her for awhile, she likes to take care of people, and you, my friend, are looking a little rough. The drink is from that boy over there, who seems _mighty_ interested in you.”

It’s another blonde, a little bit younger than Lee and all bluish eyes and boyish grin. He waves and mouths something at Lee that is well...incredibly lewd and Lee can’t help but balk.

“What about the fries?” He asks once he can take his eyes away from a swirling tongue that is only just across the bar. 

“Those are from me. On the house.”

“Don’t tell me you’re hitting on me too?”

The bartender laughs and his eyes flash in the dim lighting. “You are mighty cute my friend, but not my taste. I’m more of the first category of your admirers tonight.”

“Taking care of me then?” Lee’s skeptical. If only because he can’t really pin this guy down. He seems like a hardass, but then there’s a gentleness to him, an ease. And none of it really fits together.

“Everyone needs a watchful eye, brother. Name’s Tool. Call me over if you need anything.”

Lee nods before staring at the food. He’s not sure if it’s because he doesn’t know where to start, or because he can’t quite remember how to use a fork. The last he ate had been some granola bars from that house. And that had been a day or two ago, he wasn’t sure. 

He went for the fries first, if only because they were something he could just nibble at while he tried to figure out what to do. Some of the people he acquired money from had since left, but one of them was still here and the longer he stayed, the more risk there was of him getting caught. 

Figures the bar he picks to sleep near is the one he can’t completely rob but also can’t leave because they gave him food and now he feels like an ass for staying in the first place. 

He’s not even halfway through the fries when the barten—Tool—drops some pie on the table and glides away before Lee can ask who the fuck it came from.


	3. Chapter 3

“He’s staring at it all like we poisoned it.”

“I don’t know, you should’ve seen the way his eyes lit up when you first dropped the pie. Bet he’s got a sweet tooth.” 

Tool hums pleasantly next to him for a moment and they both watch their sweet-toothed friend nibble at more fries as he stares around the rest of the room looking like someone might yell at him. “How much he get?”

Barney closes his eyes for a moment and thinks through the pattern he saw their friend go through when he first came in, calculating. “20 maybe,” he says, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘give or take’. “The girl’s usually come in with a lot ones. I suspect that’s all he got from them. The guys, maybe some fives between them.”

Tool nods and it’s a sad sort of thing that goes with his sad smile as he watches their thief finally make it through the fries just to stare at burger like it might attack him. “I’m heading back to the bar. Looks like we got a new crowd coming in. You watch him, yeah?”

Barney nods and tips his beer back. He can’t help but wonder how a guy like this thief of theirs ended up sleeping on the streets. And oh yeah, he can tell. The clothes don’t fit the guy and the guy doesn’t even try to look comfortable in them. On top of that, there’s still enough dirt and grime and mistrust in every move the guy makes to complete the picture.

It sounds stupid but the guy’s too handsome to be on the street. He’s got a face that could get him a cougar and mansion go with it. Though, Barney can tell the thief’s not a golddigger type. He doesn’t even really look like a thief-type either and Barney wonders if that was why it was so easy to catch him pickpocketing. 

Barney waits until the guy’s down to the pie a good hour or so later. He stands up and walks over, sliding into the space across from the guy, staring into startled brown eyes and an uneasy shift of shoulders to match. 

“You need help with that?” Barney gestures at the pie when the thief stares at him blankly and there’s a narrowing of eyes that’s too clouded with desperation to really mean anything. And right then Barney knows two things: he likes this guy and he’s going to help him. He doesn’t know how or even why but he’s going to if only because he doesn’t like the way the desperation in those eyes settles into this hard rotting feeling in Barney’s gut. 

He takes a bite out of the pie, mostly just to see what the guy does, and instead of surprise or anger or really anything particularly negative—he gets a smile. And if that isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s seen in awhile.

“You’re the one who sent the pie,” The thief says and some of his hard edges have smoothed a little, eyes still tired and desperate but warm as he stares Barney down.

“It’s some of the best, think everyone should try it at least once.”

The guy hums before finally picking up his fork and cutting off a piece of the pie. He chews and hums and Barney can see it in his eyes the very minute the taste of the pie really gets to him. That almost heavenly too sweet caramel on what are no doubt deprived taste buds. 

“It’s alright, I guess.”

Barney snorts smiling and casts a glance over his shoulder, the crowd’s thinning and they’ve got maybe an hour until closing. He turns back to his sneak thief and wonders if he should bust the guy now. He has no intention of pressing charges but at the same time the guy’s a thief.

 

 

Lee nearly groans at the sweetness, so much better than fucking granola bars. The burger was amazing, the fries too but damn if he could eat himself to death on caramel he probably would. 

And being able to close his eyes and enjoy the taste allows him to ignore the piercing eyes of the guy across his table. This Barney character. 

They've been sitting together for awhile now and so far he’s kept his own name quiet if only out of habit but he just knows there’s something up with this guy—with this whole freaking place really because no one’s ever been this nice to him, and certainly not multiple people _at the same damn time._

The paranoid side of him is telling him to fucking run because Barney probably knows about the money. If Lee had to peg him as anything it’d be bouncer and since he didn’t even bother to fucking check for bouncers, it’s entirely possible his pickpocketing wasn’t as sneaky as he thought. And if that’s the case he definitely needs to fucking _run_ because they’re probably just occupying him until the cops get here. 

The other side of him though is a lot more...quiet. Devoid of thought really because he’s warm and fed and all he really wants to do is fall asleep. One good night’s sleep. And with all the kindness in the air, the temptation to do so is getting really strong. He could sleep on this booth if he really wanted to. 

Lee finishes off the pie and finds himself staring at smirking lips. He suddenly remembers the guy from earlier and wonders if that’s what’s going on here. “So...are you hitting on me too?”

The question does seem to catch Barney off guard but it’s only in the flicker of his gaze, the brief waver. “Only if you want it to go that way.”

Lee can feel his eyebrows climbing up and if the way Barney turns his head away and coughs is any indication, he’s also surprised at the words that just came out his mouth. 

And if that isn’t a blaring fucking sign to get the hell out, Lee doesn’t know what is. 

He’s standing before he even really thinks about it and yanks out the wad of stolen cash. “Yeah, well...” His hands shake as he tries to count out something, a tip, at least, but he eventually just drops the whole wad. 

“You’re leaving? I didn’t mean to–” Barney’s arm whips out, hand clenching around Lee’s bicep and he freezes, blinking against the swell of fear in his chest. He doesn’t want to know what Barney meant. Doesn’t want to know if the cops are coming, if he’s supposed to somehow return the favor of free food with something else. He just wants to get the fuck out and then maybe curl into a ball and hope the earth swallows him up. 

“Forget it. I gotta go.” He wrenches his arm away maybe a bit too forcibly before shoving past Barney and towards the door before he hopefully before anyone noticed him freaking out.


End file.
